


A certain slant of light

by zinjadu



Series: Wed to Blight [10]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Battle, Camping, Friendship, Gen, Peaceful moments, Road Trips, are the worst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-21
Updated: 2018-07-21
Packaged: 2019-06-13 20:14:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15372456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinjadu/pseuds/zinjadu
Summary: An atmospheric piece about a moment on the road.  After the Circle Tower, the crew needs to get to Redcliffe, but this means going all the way around Lake Calenhad.  They run into a familiar face on the way, and Caitwyn finds a moment of peace after a fight.





	A certain slant of light

Caitwyn stepped cautiously through the tall grass, Maethor at her side.  This far north, the forest had thinned out, and they were in open, hilly country.  As per the map Wynne had procured for them from the tower, to get to Redcliffe the safest option was to round the tip of Lake Calenhad and approach the keep from the west.  Going back through Lothering was going to run them into far too many darkspawn at the moment, with the Battle of Ostagar only a scant two weeks behind them.

 

She wondered if it had really been that short a time.  They had pushed to get out of the wilds and then to the Circle Tower ahead of the horde.  Alistair said the ground to the west of Lothering was rough and broken hills, and would likely drive the darkspawn into the much less defended bannorn.  Across the largest expanse of farm land in the country.  How many villages were out there?  Isolated farmsteads that couldn’t be warned?  In her mind’s eye she could see families fleeing and falling victim to the choking onslaught of the Blight and its creatures, fires leaving homes gutted and bodies charred, rot creeping over the land.

 

Clenching her jaw, she fought the images down, putting them away with everything else she couldn’t think about right now.  It wouldn’t do anyone any good if she was too preoccupied with her own maudlin thoughts and didn’t keep her eyes sharp for anyone or anything that might pose a threat.

 

Several paces to her left, Leliana walked in a similar line and monitoring that flank while Caitwyn kept an eye on the other.  The sun shone above them, oblivious to the trials of the little people on the ground.  It was a warm summer day, and sweat ran down Caitwyn’s back underneath the leather Warden armor she wore.   Insects buzzed all around, and the occasional scratching scurry of rodents reached her ears as well.  She licked her lips and held up her fist to call a halt.  Leliana wove through the grass to join her, and Caitwyn took a swig from her canteen before handing it Leliana.  The former lay sister did the same, thoughtfully wiping the mouth of the canteen first.  Then Caitwyn held out her hands, and Leliana poured a portion into them.  Caitwyn knelt and let Maethor drink as well.

 

“Are we to circle back, or press on?” Leliana asked, her blue eyes scanning the area around them even as she spoke.  The others were a good distance behind them while they two scouted ahead, and Caitwyn called up her memory of the map she and Alistair had gone over.  They had to leave the main road to avoid Loghain’s hunters, but would have to turn back west once they hit the old Imperial Highway.  There was no better way to move through the foothills of the Frostbacks, apparently, and Caitwyn didn’t trust her new survival skills that much.  Sten could probably _survive_ in those hills, but it wasn’t to him to stop the Blight.  That was to her and Alistair. 

 

“Press on for now, but I need to leave a marker.”  It was difficult to leave markers in open grassland like this, but she and Alistair had worked out a method.  Scuffing around the dirt with the end of her longbow, Cait found a stick that would stand over the grass.  She jammed it into the ground, and then tied a series of stones to it with a bit of twine.  Alistair should be able to see the stick from a fair distance off, and he’d make a line for it.  The stones would tell him the rest, that she and Leliana had kept going due north.  He’d follow.

 

Leliana watched the entire process with a curious tilt to her head, and when it was complete lifted the string of stones with a graceful hand.  “It is almost pretty.  You took some of these stones from the shore of the lake, I see.”

 

“Yeah, lots of little rocks on the beach.  Alistair said colors would be easier for him to remember,” Caitwyn explained and pointed to the little green stone.  “That’s me, the light blue is you, white means no darkspawn, and I tied it so the knot is facing north, the way we’re going.  Not terribly complicated.  Would be different in a forest, different things to work with, but this does the job for now.”

 

“It’s very clever, almost like—” Leliana cut herself off before she could say anything more.  The other woman held her past close to her, sharing stories and songs easily, but hid her own history behind them.  Cait suspected Leliana was like her in some way, someone who had worked in shadows, someone who had seen darkness in the hearts of men.  But she was not about to fault Leliana for keeping the same kind of secrets that Caitwyn did.  Instead, Leliana forced a bright smile to her face.  “It is very clever.”

 

“Thanks,” Caitwyn replied, letting the whole matter drop.  Path marked and thirst slaked, they began to scout northwards again, and the buzz of the insects grew louder in her ears.  Then she felt a worm of darkness crawl along her skin.  Swiftly, she ran at full tilt into Leliana, jumping up to catch the other woman about the shoulders and drag her down to the ground. 

 

An arrow flew through the space where Leliana had been.

 

“I’ll lead them away, you signal the others.  Maethor, _stay_ ,” Caitwyn ordered.  Without waiting for Leliana’s reply, Caitwyn rolled into a crouching position and dashed through the grass keeping her head low.  Her sense of the darkspawn was still new, still strange as it twisted and writhed along her mind, and she wondered what a band of them were doing this far north.  She circled around where she thought they might be, between her sense of them and where the arrow had come from, and then popped her head up.  She saw a handful of genlocks and a hurlock, and thankfully no ogres in sight.  She’d feel like an idiot if she’d failed to spot an ogre across these grasses.

 

Lighting fast, she drew back her bow and fired an arrow at the hurlock, it’s height making it an easier target.  It didn’t go down, the arrow deflecting off its helm.  Alerted, the darkspawn trained on her like hounds after a fox, and she ran.  The grass cut at her face and the guttural cries of the darkspawn drove her on.  Then a bright spot rose in her mind: Alistair. 

 

Her sense of him was tied to her sense of the darkspawn, but where they were a buzzing, slick sense over her skin, he was a flame, something that cleansed instead of corrupted.  For her to sense him, that meant he was drawing closer; Leliana had gotten the signal off.  She circled to her right, aiming for where he was fast approaching.  The darkspawn were closing in on her.  She could hear the clank and rattle of their rusted and rotted armor, the gurgling panting as they ran in her wake through the grass.

 

Lungs and legs burning, she reached deep and pushed, pushed past what she thought had been her limit.  Inside of her was a well, it seemed, a power she had not had before and it flowed through her limbs like a river coming to life after the spring rains.  Her blood pounded in her ears, and she reached the bottom of a hill just as Alistair appeared on the top of the rise.  It could have been the trick of the sun overhead, but she thought she caught an outline of white around him.

 

“Found something for you!” she called up to him.  Her grin was as fast and fierce as a hunting cat, and she bounded up the slope.

 

“Oh, just what I always wanted!” he shouted back.  They passed each other, Alistair charging down the hill, slamming into the first genlock with his shield and bowling it over.  Sten was half a step behind, swinging his massive greatsword faster than he had any right to do, the blade biting through the armor of the darkspawn like it was cobwebs.  Caitwyn skid to a halt and turned on her heels.  She drew a bead on the hurlock and this time she struck true, her arrow sinking into its chest.  It howled in pain and staggered but swung wildly with its sword.  Alistair caught the blade on his shield and turned it, throwing the creature off balance.  It’s belly exposed, Alistair drove his sword through it, killing it with a vicious shout.

 

Morrigan drew even with Caitwyn and angled her staff down, sending a gout of flame into the genlocks headed their way.  They screamed and burned as they died, and then Caitwyn’s sense of the area cleared.  There was only the bright spot of Alistair left.

 

It had been a short little fight, and in spite of knowing the area was clear, Caitwyn scanned the area to be sure.  Wynne appeared a moment later, sweat beading on her brow, and Caitwyn inwardly cringed to think of how easy it would be to leave the older woman behind.  She’d been in the Circle most of her life, not out of doors.  Even though she’d been at Ostagar, daily physical exertion didn’t seem to be a part of most mages lives.

 

“Ah, late but no harm for it,” Wynne commented wryly, gracing Caitwyn with a self-deprecating grin.  Morrigan sniffed, but at least remained quiet.  The mages seemed to have come to an understanding where they largely didn’t talk to each other, which suited Caitwyn just fine.

 

“No offense, but any day we don’t need your help is a good day, Wynne,” Caitwyn told her, and Wynne hummed thoughtfully. 

 

“I won’t say I disagree,” Wynne agreed with a bare smile. 

 

“We should hurry to Leliana’s position, though, just in case.”

 

“No need to go to the trouble for me,” Leliana’s voice tumbled over the grass.  Caitwyn turned to see the redhead wending through the grass, Maethor trotting at her side, a smear of red-black blood around his mouth.  “I also believe I have discovered what this little group of darkspawn were doing so far north.  Do you care to see?”

 

* * *

 

“Thank you again, Warden.  Very kind of you, indeed,” Bodhan babbled, wiping the sweat from his brow with a yellowed handkerchief.   It might have been crisp and white once upon a time, but now it had clearly been well used and was in desperate need of a wash.  Caitwyn nodded again, putting on her best congenial smile, and tried to wave away the effusive and continued gratitude of the dwarven merchant.  At least his son, though simple, was not so chatty.

 

“Enchantment!” Sandal exclaimed.  Maethor snuffled at the dwarf boy, making him grin and laugh and clap like a delighted child.  Caitwyn was glad to have saved the merchant and his son.  It seems the pair had been stalked and tracked since Lothering, and Bodhan’s initial reluctance to travel in her wake had been replaced by an eagerness to follow them everywhere. 

 

“You’ll be a help to us, I’m sure, Master Feddic,” Caitwyn assured him.  He opened his mouth to thank her again, but she held up her hands, forestalling him.  “Now, we’ve made camp, and the evening is wearing on.  You and your son should get some rest.  It’s been a long day.”

 

“Oh, oh yes, of course.  Very kind of you, as I said.  Very kind.  Come on now, boy, time to get some rest.  You can play with the nice doggy tomorrow.”  Bodhan corralled his son, with a few more bursts of “Enchantment!” for good measure, and Caitwyn finally extracted herself from the merchant’s gratitude.  Maethor trotted beside her as she rejoined the others at the main camp.

 

It had been a hard day after that fight, pushing to get as far away from the area as possible for as long as they could.  If there were other darkspawn in the area, they would go to where their fellows had been killed, if only to pick over the bones of their own kind.  They had walked until the sun had just touched the horizon, barely enough time to get a fire going before the sun disappeared from view, leaving only the trailing lines of light on a dark blue sky.

 

Caitwyn’s stomach grumbled, and she was thankful they had picked up more supplies before leaving The Spoiled Princess.  Sten was cooking tonight, thankfully.  Though he muttered about not having the correct spices, all of his food was perfectly edible and filling.  Unlike _some others_ she could think of.  She joined the others sitting around the fire, already taking their portion of stew, and Caitwyn took hers.  Again, she ate like a woman starved, though she made herself slow down to prevent another round of overeating.  They ate quietly, Morrigan drifting away as soon as she was done, back to study the grimoire Caitwyn had found in the Circle Tower.

 

The long day made everyone weary, and she eyed the dirty dishes with distaste.  With a sigh, Caitwyn gathered up the bowls.  Wynne took up her knitting needles and Leliana strummed on a lute she had rescued from the tower, her voice softly wending along with the lazy summer breeze.  The bit of music would be nice while she washed up, though she grimaced at the thought of washing the pot.  Then she heard a grunt and a clank and glanced over her shoulder to see Alistair hefting the stewpot off the wrought tripod.  He walked with her to the stream they had camped by, and together they cleaned everything in companionable silence.  She was done before he was, and she sat back on her heels and gazed out over the plain while he grumbled and scraped the brown bits off the bottom. 

 

In a quiet spot like this, it was hard to believe that the darkspawn were even out there to begin with.  She could smell the warmth of the night on the breeze as stars winked into life over head and just across the stream fireflies glowed in and amongst the grass.  Standing, Caitwyn hopped over the stream, her boots landing in the dirt with a soft crunch.  Unlike other creatures, the fireflies didn’t seem bothered by her presence, and carefully, gently she cupped one between her palms.

 

“Caitwyn,” Alistair hissed.  “What’re you doing?”

 

Turning, she realized she’d not thought about what she was doing or who she was with.  She’d just wanted to see a firefly, and like when she’d been a child, she’d _jumped_.  Briefly, she debated what to do.  She still had the bug in her hands, and she could let it go.  Try to pass it off as a momentary lapse of an overtired mind.  Or, she could tell the truth.  Keeping her hands steady, she leapt back over the stream and knelt down next to her fellow Warden and opened her hands the barest fraction.

 

“Catching a firefly,” she told him.  “Never done it before.  Weren’t any in the city.”

 

“Oh.”  He peered between the gap in her clasped hands, the firefly’s pulsing glow shining forth, and his face broke into a crooked grin.  Sitting this close, she could just make out the smattering of freckles across his cheeks and prominent nose in last gasp of sunlight from below the horizon.  “Looks like you got a good one.”

 

“Probably shouldn’t keep him too long, yeah?”  She didn’t wait for his reply before opening her hands and the little bug rose with an irritated buzz and crossed over the stream to rejoin its fellows.  For a little while longer, Caitwyn watched the insects dance in the grass as darkness fully cloaked the land around them. 


End file.
